


dancing shoes

by redhoodedwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Human, Dancer Derek, Dancer Stiles Stilinski, Hale Dance Studio, M/M, brief v brief mention of the fire but no one died i promise, fluff just lots of fluff, mostly exposition not a lot of dialogue, puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7074883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoodedwolf/pseuds/redhoodedwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale is the most ruthless ballet instructor in Northern California. Rumor has it that Abby Lee Dance Company along with the show Dance Moms were looking to collaborate, even give him his own show, and he turned them down.<br/>Stiles isn’t so sure about the Dance Moms rumor, but he does know that Derek Hale is a force to be reckoned with, because the man glares at him the entire time Stiles is interviewing for the position of studio receptionist. It’s not the glamorous dance teacher job he’s been dreaming of, but it’s a step up. If he gets hired, he’ll be working alongside the Hale family, one of the most well known names in dance. Just even having that title on his resume will allow him to be a shoe-in anywhere he wants.<br/>He just has to, yanno, not die under the force of Derek Hale’s glare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dancing shoes

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based off of a tumblr photo post of a dancer looking down at a puppy as it's being cute, and of course it became sterek thanks to clotpolesonly and crossroadswrite on tumblr. Post and prompt can be found here: http://redhoodedwolf.tumblr.com/post/145330249250/crossroadswrite-clotpolesonly

Derek Hale is the most ruthless ballet instructor in Northern California. Rumor has it that Abby Lee Dance Company along with the show _Dance Moms_ were looking to collaborate, even give him his own show, and he _turned them down_. Another whisper in the streets says that he’s never hired an employee outside of his family in any capacity, because the last time he did his studio was almost burned to the ground by some jealous psycho. 

Stiles isn’t so sure about the _Dance Moms_ rumor, but he does know that Derek Hale is a force to be reckoned with, because the man glares at him the entire time Stiles is interviewing for the position of studio receptionist. It’s not the glamorous dance teacher job he’s been dreaming of, but it’s a step up. If he gets hired, he’ll be working alongside the Hale family, one of the most well known names in dance. Just even having that title on his resume will allow him to be a shoe-in anywhere he wants. 

He just has to, yanno, not die under the force of Derek Hale’s glare.

“Tell me about your qualifications?” the man asks, glare shifting momentarily from Stiles over to his sister, Laura, who is sitting at his side. Stiles watches as her elbow retracts from his hip, so he gathers that the question was not asked voluntarily. 

Stiles swallows thickly, shifts in his chair, licks his lips. Derek’s eyes snap back over to him. Stiles’ breath hitches. He’s not entirely sure he’s going to survive another minute under those punishingly beautiful eyes.

Oh, did Stiles neglect to mention the other rumor that Derek Hale is single, super duper gay, and has a thing for lithe guys? Stiles may have that reminder running in his head constantly. Stiles may also have a thing for muscled men with dark stubble with hair long enough to tie up in a bun on the crown of their head. Just a little.

Stiles is sure he blacked out for the majority of the interview and only comes back to himself as Laura Hale is shaking his hand, assuring him with a kind smile that they will be in touch shortly. And it doesn’t sound like a gentle let-down, either. She sounds… impressed?

Three hours later, Stiles answers his phone in the middle of cooking dinner and hears Derek Hale’s gruff voice respond to his cherry greeting with, “Is this  _Stiles_ Stilinski?”

Stiles almost knocks the pot of spaghetti to the ground. “Y-yes! Hi, hello! This is, uh, he– me!”

A second of silence passes, and Stiles worries that the man has hung up. But then a deep sigh filters through, and Derek says, “We at Hale Dance Studio would like to welcome you to the team.”

There is no excitement in his voice, despite the fantastic news he is carrying, but Stiles doesn’t care. He has enough excitement for the both of them. “Yes! Yes, okay, I accept!”

“Good. Come down to the studio at noon tomorrow to discuss your contract with Laura, and you can begin working at the start of next week when classes resume.”

“Yes!” Stiles quickly jots down a note for himself to remember to go to the studio at noon as he squashes the phone between his ear and shoulder. “That sounds good to me! See you then!”

“Goodbye.”

Stiles frowns at the phone as the call is suddenly disconnected, but then Scott is bursting through the front door, and Stiles face beaks out into a grin. “Scotty! You’ll never believe what just happened!”

* * *

So Stiles gets the job. Laura is just as sweet normally as she was during the interview, talks through the contract with him, doesn’t laugh when Stiles almost faints at hearing his yearly salary, and properly welcomes him to the Hale Team with a smile. 

On Stiles’ first day he gets to the studio an hour and a half before the first class of the afternoon. The building housing the studio isn’t large, as it used to be a small one-story house. But you wouldn’t know now. Right by the front door is a small seating area where Stiles’ desk is set up to welcome people, check them in, register them for classes, etc. There is a single bathroom right next to the office where Laura spends most of her time The majority of the space, separated from the sitting area by a large wall of glass, is the actual dance room. The floor, instead of the nice tan wood in the entrance, is the perfect stuff to dance on. In the corner is a small tray of rosin for shoes so that no one slips. The far wall is all mirrors, practice bar spanning the length of it as well. Windows on the walls parallel bring in natural light, and skylights above bring in all the light necessary. It’s a stunning, pristine dance room, and Stiles is jealous of every single child that can afford to attend Derek’s classes because he certainly can’t. Maybe now, that he has an actual salary and all. But it would probably be weird, having your boss also be your teacher and unrequited love interest.

But maybe Stiles can sneak into work early some days and have free reign of the studio.

This was his plan, at least, until he enters to see Derek’s ass pressing almost against the glass as he stretches. Stiles immediately about faces, shoves his dance bag under his desk, and sucks greedily from his thermos of coffee, decidedly not looking to his left at the delicious view. 

Derek pops his head out a few minutes later, a dripping water bottle hanging loosely from one hand. His shirt is already stained with sweat. Stiles does not find it attractive. “You’re in early.”

Stiles nods, gesturing to the computer. “Yeah. Wanted to get a head-start on learning the software. I mean, I’ve used it before for stuff in school, but not for  _your_ needs, ha.” Stiles clears his throat and reaches for his coffee. He pouts at the thermos when he finds it empty.

Derek snorts and jerks his head towards the front corner of the room, where the chairs are all set up for waiting parents. There’s a Keurig sitting on a skinny wooden table, a box of coffee pods underneath. Stiles’ mouth waters.

“Help yourself,” Derek gruffs out before turning back around into the dance room. “First class starts in an hour.”

Stiles snags a coffee refill quickly before returning back to look at the computer at the rest of the week’s schedule. Hale Dance Studio offers three classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays: Adult Ballet (taught by Derek), Teen Tap (taught by Cora, Derek’s younger sister), and Teen Ballet (also taught by Derek). Each class runs an hour and a half long. Wednesday is all kid classes, half taught by Derek and half taught by Cora. Friday is all Jazz classes for all ages, and Stiles is excited to watch and see what those are like. He knows that both Derek and Cora teach those classes together, but it will be interesting to watch the family dynamic as they teach along side one another. Stiles had gone to high school with Cora, the only interaction he’d ever had with the Hales, so he knew how tough it could be to work with her sometimes. 

Stiles isn’t scheduled to work on either Sunday or Monday, as the studio is closed, and he is only told to come in every other Saturday, as that is when classes open to the public are. Guest dance instructors come in and rent the studio for time. They do ballroom dancing classes, classes for seniors, and Stiles remembers seeing advertised at some point a class for babies as well. 

Stiles gets bored quickly enough after memorizing the month’s schedule and peeks over to see what Derek is doing. The man seems to want to cause Stiles a heart attack because he’s at the bar, leg extended to stretch his thigh muscles and show Stiles just how tight his shorts are, while casually checking his phone. 

His eyes flick up to meet Stiles. Stiles watches, unable to tear his eyes away as Derek easily rolls onto pointe, extends his leg even farther up as he detaches it from the bar, and lets it fall gracefully to the floor, joining the other foot on pointe.

Stiles swallows thickly and turns his eyes away. He blinks rapidly, trying to dispel the image. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea accepting a job here.

* * *

True to the rumors, Derek teaches with an iron fist. He lets no student go with sloppy work. He calls out every imperfection, snapping his finger out the second a student wobbles. He walks across the floor on pointe as if he was born in pointe shoes. Even when it comes to the teenagers he does not yield. He is training the best to be better, and he’s damn good at it. 

Stiles often finds himself just watching the class rather than doing his job, as it is so easy to get distracted. Early on he memorizes the stretches Derek beings each class with and does them at home in his bedroom, just to keep himself in dancing shape. They have been helping his form immensely, and that’s even without Derek Hale breathing down his neck at every wrong twitch.

Not that Stiles would mind that at all. 

Cora is wonderful to watch as well. She isn’t quite as harsh as Derek and has her own style that is effective. It just isn’t as intriguing to Stiles as when Derek teaches. And Stiles can’t be the only one thinking this, as the wait-list to take any of Derek’s classes is thirty people long per class, per semester. And the only reason it isn’t longer is because they cap it at thirty. 

Stiles often fields phone calls during most of his day from irate parents asking if a spot on the wait-list opened, or if they could just speak to one of the Hales they are sure they would allow insert-name-here to practice. Stiles isn’t heartless, and the Hales aren’t either, so they they gave him a list of the other dance studios in the area for any parents who were serious about dance for their children or themselves. Usually only a third of the calls ended happily.

Besides the obvious perks of watching one of the greatest dance instructors ever work, Stiles really enjoys working at HDS. Besides manning the desk, taking phone calls, and checking in students, he also helps out on the technical side. He pointed out a few flaws on the website and helped to make the interface more user-friendly. He even convinced Laura to start an Intsagram for the studio (though he isn’t sure if Derek actually knows about that one yet) and a Twitter to spread news about upcoming recitals and performances. It also helps connect with the younger students, which is what sold Laura on it in the first place. 

And Stiles does, eventually, find that perfect wedge of time to get the studio all to himself.

Derek has requested he lock up on Tuesday nights, so after Stiles does, he turns on the lights, the ones used rarely only when thy sky did not bring in enough light to illuminate the room, and steps slowly out onto the dance floor.

He wiggles his toes in his ballet flats, a rush of giddiness flowing through him as it does every time he gets to dance. He plays soft music from his phone as he stretches at the bar, mimicking the ones taught by Derek. 

After he feels warmed-up enough, he usually falls easily into an old routine of his, one he’d learned when he’d taken the cheap classes down at the rec center in high school. 

Sometimes he practices an old one, sometimes he creates a whole new one. Whatever he does, he fits the motions to whatever song is playing, whether it be upbeat or slow. 

Alone in the studio on Tuesday nights is when Stiles truly feels free. 

* * *

Wednesday, though? Wednesday is Stiles’ favorite day. Because Wednesday is Kids Ballet day. 

Something shifts in Derek when he spots the first kid showing up for class. His face relaxes, the perpetual scowl disappears, and an easy smile rests on his face for the entire hour he teaches. Even when the kids get rowdy and disruptive, which they often do as they are just kids, he’s still gentle and kind with them. 

Derek sticks around when most of the kids stay for tap class with Cora right afterwards, just to be a helping hand. And when the kids leave, he’s seeing each one out the door safely with their parent or guardian and opening his arms out for a goodbye hug. 

Stiles swoons every damn Wednesday. Cora likes to tease him about it, but Stiles doesn’t even care. 

A month into working the desk, Derek catches him one Wednesday as he watches Derek adjust a little girl’s position three through the glass. Derek glances up, as if he feels eyes on him, and Stiles freezes in terror. Derek, however, just smiles and gives him a tiny wave. Stiles twitches some semblance of a wave back, though it probably looks more like a hand spasm more than anything, and then turns back to the computer and busies himself with sending out a new tweet about this Saturday’s upcoming classes. 

Stiles often will take a break at some point in the day and snap a photo of whatever class is going on at the moment and then post it on the Instagram. He tries his best to make it be about the kids, but Derek’s face also does bring in a good number of followers. So anything to better business, right?

* * *

Derek catches Stiles dancing a Tuesday night three months into his employment. 

He spotted Derek’s jacket hanging on the coat rack even after he’d locked up, but he’d just assumed he would get it the next day. How wrong he was.

Stiles is twenty minutes deep into his dance-trance, eyes fluttered closed as he tries to see how many pirouettes he can do in a row in his old dance shoes. If he can do more than three, he won’t have to buy new ones, he reasons. But if he can’t even do three… his bank account is going to pay the price. 

There’s a knock on the glass and someone clears their throat, and Stiles trips out of the third twirl and lands on the floor. He looks up to find Derek staring at him, eyebrow arched. He doesn’t look mad, at least. He does look confused and amused, though. Stiles tries not to feel hurt that Derek is amused at his dancing ability as he stands, dusting himself off. 

Derek’s eyes rake over his figure, and Stiles feels a shiver roll down his spine. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, no really meaning it.

“Don’t be.” Derek’s voice is soft, fond. “From what I saw you’re pretty good.” He cocks his head to the side. “Did you study dance?”

Stiles winces. “Ah, I wanted to. Took a couple community college courses, but couldn’t afford to get a degree in an arts field. I hope to, some day.”

Derek hums as he steps further into the room. His coat is slung over his left arm. He doesn’t seem to be in a rush to leave, though. 

He and Stiles stare at each other for a long moment, Stiles unwilling to speak first.

“You want to teach?” Derek asks, finally.

“Some day,” Stiles repeats, shuffling his shoes across the floor. 

“Ever think about taking a class here?”

Stiles snorts. “I work here, remember?” He waves a hand at the desk on the other side of the glass. “Can’t dance when I have a desk to man. Even even if I didn’t, there is no way I could get _into_ a class, let alone afford one.”

Derek purses his lips, says a minute later, “We do have a scholarship program, you know.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. So?”

“ _So_ ,” Derek emphasizes, stepping closer to Stiles. “Whenever you’re ready to go back to school, you should apply.”

Stiles feels his jaw drop. “Seriously?”

Derek shrugs. “If you want.”

Stiles’ mouth has gone dry. “You think I’m good enough to warrant a Hale Scholarship? You’ve barely seen me dance!”

Derek blinks slowly. “Then show me.” He drops his coat and kicks it over to the dance room entrance. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Show me; prove me right or wrong.”

Stiles sets his jaw. His hands feel sweaty. “Now?” he squeaks out.

Derek nods sharply, once. Stiles releases the fists he’d clenched his hands in the second he spotted Derek. 

Derek reaches for Stiles’ phone that he’d settled against the glass wall on top of his dance bag. The music is still playing softly. Derek pauses the current song, skips to the next one, and then turns up the volume. Then his eyes flick back up to meet Stiles’, and the younger man takes that as his cue. 

Stiles dances for Derek and after a while forgets about who Derek really is and just enjoys the fact that someone is watching him dance for once. Someone thinks him good enough to watch. 

Stiles doesn’t get back to his and Scott’s apartment until almost midnight, feeling sore but relaxed. Derek hadn’t said much more after instructing him to dance, but it wasn’t like there were words to be said. 

Stiles almost arrives late to work the next day, having slept right through his alarm. Derek looks up at him when he enters, and smiles.

* * *

Thursday a week later is when things get interesting.

Stiles is sitting at the desk. There are three parents waiting with their teens for Derek’s ballet class staring in the next half hour, but the adult class before isn’t over yet so he doesn’t expect many more students to be showing up until the very end.

Suddenly, the door flies open and an excited barking child runs in. Or more accurately, as Stiles quickly asses the situation, an excited child rushes in carrying a barking dog. A little golden puppy to be exact.

“Mr. Stiles, look!” 

Stiles’ shocked face melts into a fold smile for the boy, Chris. Chris is one of the only boys in Derek’s Kids Ballet class on Wednesdays. The boy’s mother has discussed with anyone within earshot of her about how Chris is very shy in school, but absolutely loves ballet. Some of his classmates make fun of him for it, which lowers his self esteem. Stiles always hates to see the little boy frown because he recognizes so much of himself in Chris. Hyperactive, sensitive, a dancer…

Chris shoves the dog in Stiles’ face. “Look!”

The dog stares at Stiles, pokes its tongue out, and licks his chin. Stiles melts.

“Aww…” he coos, scooping the pet into his hands. He sees Chris’ mother burst in, looking haggard, and he gives her a ‘what can you do?’ smile and shrug. “What’s this little puppy’s name?” he asks Chris.

“Dancer!” Chris declares, inciting a coo from everyone in the sitting area. 

Chris’ mom collapses into one of the chairs. “We just picked him up from the shelter, but Chris really wanted to introduce his new friend to Mr. Hale before we went home.”

Stiles hands Dancer back to Chris and glances up at the glass wall. Derek has his stern adults-only face on as he instructs the students to execute a pattern of moves.

“Well, Mr. Derek would love to meet Dancer, as s–” The kid is off like a light, zooming into the dance room. “–oon as he finishes class,” Stiles completes, a moot point now, though.

“Mr. Hale! Mr. Hale!” Chris cheers as he jogs into the room, disrupting the entire class. 

Derek’s spine goes ramrod straight and he turns slowly to see who would dare to interrupt him. But when his eyes land on Chris, his demeanor instantly switches. Gone is Instructor Derek. Hello, Wednesday Derek. 

“Hey, Chris!” Derek greets. “Who do we have here?”

Chris smiles shyly at Derek and lowers his puppy to the ground. The dog happily trots around the room, greeting all of the students who are more than happy for the interruption. “This is Dancer. He’s my new puppy!”

Derek’s face completely melts. “Dancer. That’s an awesome name, bud.”

“Yeah! Mommy said to pick something I’d love, so I said, “I know! Dancer!” Cause he’ll be a dancer like me, you see? He already jumps around, like we do in class!”

Dancer hears Chris babbling excitedly and pads over to see what’s happening. Stiles already has his phone in hand, snapping some pics for today’s Instagram post.

Dancer plods forward slowly, as if assessing Derek before he pounces. Derek smiles slyly at Chris, who giggles, and the bends at the waist giving Stiles an amazing view of his backside, and peeking down between his legs at the puppy.

“Hello there, Dancer,” Derek greets as the dog stops right between his legs. Stiles keeps his finger on the trigger, snapping photo after photo.

The puppy stares up at him and then jumps suddenly, bathing Derek in doggy kisses. Derek laughs and stands straight up before sweeping Dancer into his hands. The pup is just over a handful in his large hands, and Stiles definitely swoons this time. 

“Thanks for allowing me to meet him, Chris! I’m so glad you stopped by!” Derek gently deposits the dog back into Chris’ arms.

Chris beams up at him before shouting a goodbye and running back out to his mother. Stiles barely has time to say goodbye before they are both back out the door. 

Derek catches Stiles’ eye as he turns away from watching the door, a fond smile on his face. Stiles waves at him with his phone, and Derek smirks. 

Stiles bites back a whimper as Derek turns his back to him. His shirt rode up slightly revealing a beautiful ass that Stiles just wants to grab and snuggle. 

With a sigh, Stiles takes his seat again, not even flinching when Derek shouts, “What are you doing standing around?!” at his students. 

He thumbs through the photos he’d taken and grins when he finds the perfect one to post. He captions it with, _Meet our newest student, Dancer! Welcome to the HDS family!_

The photo reaches 300 likes within the first ten minutes. 

* * *

Derek swipes his phone from his hand the moment Stiles unlocks it. 

“Hey!” Stiles shouts. “Give that back!”

Derek just rolls his eyes and avoids all of Stiles’ attempts to get his phone back. 

When Derek finishes whatever it was that he did, he hands it back to Stiles easily. Stiles stares down at the black screen in suspicion. “What did you do?” Stiles asks slowly, eyes flicking back up to Derek.

Derek smirks at him. “Nothing. Just gave you my number.”

Stiles’ heart leaps in his chest. “Uh, buh, why?” 

“Thought you might like to go dancing this weekend. I know a place where we can have the whole studio for ourselves.”

Stiles thinks back to that Tuesday night, the easiness of the silence between them, the warmth of Derek’s hand on his shoulder when he adjusted his hip with the other, the sincerity in the older man’s eyes.

Stiles looks into them now, sees that same emotion, and a little something else. 

“I think I could go for that,” Stiles says on a breath, feeling feather-light. 

Derek brushes his knuckles against Stiles’, pinky catching and hooking for a few seconds before he lets go. “Okay,” he responds softly. 

**Author's Note:**

> There's more of this insanity on my tumblr at redhoodedwolf


End file.
